Pear & Bleu Crostini with Salted Maple Caramel Drizzle

Alright friends, I'm feelin' classy right now. Get this girl a glass of champagne or something in a martini glass already! 

But seriously, I just bought two really awesome cocktail-party dresses, so I'd love an invite to your fancy autumn cocktail party. Okay, thanks. 

And also, if you invite me, I might bring these fall crostinis with pears, bleu cheese, sage, walnuts, and salted maple caramel. It's all kinds of sweet and salty and nutty in one bite. You get that invitation in the mail, and I'll get these guys on a platter. Let's do this. 

Pear & Bleu Crostini 

Makes about 20 crostinis 

1 large pear, diced small

1/2 cup walnuts, toasted and roughly chopped or broken 

1-2 tablespoons of crumbled bleu cheese

4-5 large sage leaves, thinly sliced

Spritz of fresh lemon juice

Fresh cracked black pepper

1 baguette, sliced in thin rounds, lightly toasted

2 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons brown sugar

1 tablespoon maple syrup

Heavy pinch of good flaky sea salt

Toss together pears through black pepper, and top baguette rounds with mixture. Stick under broiler until cheese is melted, for just a minute or so (keep your eye on it). 

Add butter, brown sugar, syrup, and sea salt to a small, heavy bottomed pot, and heat over medium-high, stirring the whole time, until everything is melted and bubbly and mixed together. Taste and add more salt if desired. 

Drizzle caramel on top of crostini. 

Make Baklava

I always thought baklava was one of those really laborious, easy to mess up kind of desserts—the kind best left for the professionals. But it’s not…it’s easy. A little too easy, considering the amount of butter and sugar between those flaky layers. But trust me, it’s a breeze. You should make it.

It’s practically impossible to mess up. Even if you could only find weird organic phyllo dough that practically crumbled when you tried to pull apart the layers, and you had to piece them together, using heaps of melted butter as glue. Even if you didn’t follow the instructions that said to toast the two kinds of nuts on separate baking sheets, and even then, you only toasted them for a minute, rather than five. Even if you didn’t make the syrup the night before as instructed, and you ended up making only two layers, instead of three. Even if you threw it together thirty minutes before your guests arrived, and you had to hop in the shower immediately after popping it in the oven. Even then, it would still turn out beautifully, with sticky, sweet layers of nuts, sandwiched between flaky, buttery phyllo dough.

My friend Dave said my baklava was better than the baklava at the Greek restaurant. He didn’t say which Greek restaurant, but I’m going to take the compliment and not ask questions.

Pistachio Walnut Baklava

Adapted from Bon Appetit

Syrup
2 cups sugar
2/3 tablespoons honey
1 teaspoon cinnamon
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 cup water

Bring all ingredients to boil in a heavy saucepan over medium-high heat, stirring until sugar dissolves. Reduce heat to medium and boil about 15 minutes. Cool completely.

Baklava
2.5-3 cups walnuts
2.5-3 cups natural raw unsalted pistachios
3/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons finely grated lemon peel
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
20 17x12-inch sheets thrawed phyllo pastry
1 1/2 cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, melted
Additional honey

Preheat to 350°F, and toast nuts for 5 minutes. Cool, and transfer to food processor. Add 3/4 cup sugar, lemon peel, and ground cinnamon. Blend until nuts are ground to medium- fine texture. Brush 13x9x2-inch baking pan with some melted butter. Cover bottom of pan with 1 layer of phyllo sheet (will either be 1 half sheet, or several pieced together) and brush with melted butter. Continue, making 10 layers total. Spread 1/2 of nut mixture over phyllo. Repeat—10 more phyllo sheets with butter between layers, topped with remaining nuts. Top with 5 more phyllo sheets. Using sharp knife, cut through top phyllo layers lengthwise (do not cut through to bottom of pan) to make 4 strips, then cut phyllo crosswise to make 16 rectangles, and cut each in half, to make triangles. Bake until phyllo is golden, about 45 minutes. Spoon cold syrup over hot baklava, then drizzle honey to cover entire top layer. Cool and serve.

A Thief in the Night

Last week (actually, it was the night of roasted vegetable pizza and Big Love) I noticed a strange ‘fruit’ growing on a tree by the sidewalk. It resembled a lime- bright green and the size of a medium small lime… just hanging there from a leafy tree. And there wasn’t just one, mind you, this tree was full of these little lime-like goodies. However, I was skeptical. The skin was much too smooth to be the kind of lime I’m used to, and don’t limes grow in hotter, tropical climates?

I stealthily plucked one the mystery fruits, looking both ways to make sure no one was watching (hey, this tree was half way on someone’s property…it could very well be a privately owned mystery fruit tree!) With mystery fruit in hand, I ran inside and grabbed a cutting board and knife. Slicing clean through the middle, I soon discovered that this was no lime. The inside had a white cavity (actually, cavity is appropriate, because it was almost shaped like a molar). There was a filmy slime-goo layer inside the folds of the cavity, and the edges of the cut oozed light green liquid. It smelled piney.

I left the two halves of mystery fruit on the counter, and ran to my computer to do some research, yelling to Evan to ‘not touch it, it may be poisonous.’ I did several Google web and picture searches, typing in things like ‘green lime sized fruit.’ Finally, I saw a result for photo of the mystery fruit, it was titled ‘walnuts.’ Walnuts!? This was no fruit at all… it was a WALNUT! I searched for green walnuts to confirm my findings. Sure enough, it was an unripe green walnut. WHO KNEW THAT WALNUTS LOOK LIKE THAT!? Apparently, a lot of people (including Mel).

Walnuts grow with a protective peel-like layer around their shell, which is the lime-like skin. When they’re young and un-ripe, the shell is soft, and the nut isn’t yet formed (this is the molar like cavity). Also unbeknownst to me… the fact that while the juice is initially a transparent greenie-clear color… it soon turns black and stains everything it touches. Whoops. There goes that cutting board. During my research, I learned that not only do walnuts start out green and soft-shelled, they are also commonly used (in this stage) to make a syrupy black Italian walnut liqueur called Nocino. Once I had confirmed-100% without a doubt- that these were indeed unripe green walnuts, I waiting until it got dark, and headed back out to the tree.

According to tradition, Italians pick the walnuts on San Giovanni, June 24th. Since I’m not Italian, I picked them on July 7th, and I think they’ll be just fine. Working quickly, like a thief in the night, I snatched 25 walnuts off the tree and ran back inside. The next day (after stashing them out of site because Evan didn’t like the smell) I read up on the basic formula for Nocino making. Basically, fill a big jar with quartered un-ripe green walnuts, cover with grain alcohol, and throw in extras that could include orange rinds, lemon rinds, spices, and sugar. Shake daily for up to 6 months. Strain and transfer to jars. I took it. I ran with it. I made Nocino.

After carefully (but not carefully enough) quartering the walnuts (my thumb is black from the juice), I covered them with the highest proof, lowest priced vodka I could buy, added 2 cups of sugar, 2 cinnamon sticks, half of a vanilla bean, 1 star anise, 4 whole cloves, and the peel of one orange and one lemon.

I’ll keep you updated along the way, but like many great things, Nocino gets better with age, and we won’t be drinking this baby for about a year! In the meantime, I shake it once a day (to mix it up so nothing settles on the bottom) and hope for the best. Here's to Nocino!